Friday, August 21, 2015

Finding My Edge

I often view the beginning of the school year as almost what new year's day is to most people. It is full of new things, and new adventures. Schedules change, and the routine is redefined every year as everyone's needs change.This is usually the time I stop to think about my own schedules, and what to do to make the school year meaningful to me. I clear out the old, and make way for new plans, and new goals.

This year I am still homeschooling Beans, and CJ is doing online school. Bubby is going to regular school. Beans is still going to need constant supervision, and one on one help through out the entire say. I still have been unable to find any respite for him, so unfortunately it is up to our family to figure it all out. That means that for most of the day Bean's care is all on me. I have to figure out how to help CJ (who is dyslexic) with her work, answer phones for my husband's business. as well as do paperwork, and balance all of that with housework, and everything else running a household requires.

The thing is, I have outgrown that.

Not in the way I that I want to stop doing it all, or that I don't find joy in it anymore. I do. However, there is a part of me that wants more. I am ready for something else. My expressive side has grown a bit stagnant, and my mind is restless with ideas far away from my everyday life. I feel like I need something all my own in addition to the things that already occupy my day.

I am still not sure exactly what. I am still not sure exactly when I will find time for a new venture, but my goal is to make it happen within the next year.  I'd like to start writing in some way as a career, instead of just a blogger. A book maybe? I don't know yet. I am just beginning to explore my options. I am ready to take on something new, and explore new terrain.

I'm always trying to challenge myself. Sometimes I fail, but I always am ready to try again later. I find the edge, and push it just a tiny bit. That's what I am doing now. Finding that edge, and finding what feels right as I move forward.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Defining Friendship

I don't know a lot of about social etiquette. I don't have a buzzing social life, and I don't do girl's night out. I forget to do simple things like say hello, or goodbye to people. I am moderately faceblind, so I will walk right past people I've known for years in a public place leaving to look like a space case at best, and a snob at worst.

I don't know a lot about having a lot of friends, but I know a lot about being a good friend, and what constitutes a quality friendship.

It has taken me many years to define what a good friend is, and I am still learning. One big trap that I get caught in is that I am very eager to open up my resources to almost anyone in need. I will spend hours talking to a friend in crisis, or spending the little money that I have on making a cheer up package for them. It's always been part of my personality to share what I have. In grade school this was rarely a good thing. Kids would ask to cut in line, for my food, for my money, or my seat and I'd almost always give it to them. I'd not hesitate. If they were asking they must need it more than me, and I'd always assume that they'd return the favor when I was in need. Obviously, that was not what happened, but I really didn't learn from it. Instead, the lesson I'd take to heart was that there must be something wrong with me as to why others didn't treat me with the same respect as I did them. Every time something happened where I was taken advantage of, or left out in some way it would chip away at my self-esteem a little bit more. I'd give more of myself away than before in hopes that it would somehow raise how worthy I was for friendship. I was setting myself up for failure. I was also letting other's behavior define my worth.

I still find myself doing this as an adult. It's been a hard habit to break. I don't necessarily think most people take advantage of me now in a purposeful way. Not in the way that they used to. I think it's far too often that people are more willing to take support than to give it.  When a crisis, or loss hits it is really uncomfortable for another person to be able to sit with you, and support you. Big emotions are hard to deal with, and it takes someone who has a well defined, strong character to tolerate maintaining a friendship during uncomfortable moments. What I mean by maintaining is actually playing an active role in the friendship. What I don't mean is staying

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Meltdown Recovery

I have made posts, and talked about meltdowns on my blog before. It's not a new topic for me, by any means, however it's not something that happens to me often. When it does happen it's such a heightened state of emotion that the details of how I feel, what triggered it, and how to recover fades with every hour after I am in a relatively calm state. As usual, I cannot speak for everyone on the spectrum, but I can tell you how I feel, and hope that in doing this that some of what I say may help someone else, especially parents of autistic kids who don't have the ability to explain things. I'm 36, and barely am able to have the insight to be able to advocate for what I need to recover from meltdowns.

This afternoon I had a meltdown. It was an epic one that had been building for quite some time. When it hit I was unable to identify it, and stop the torrent of emotions from flowing out. What triggered it was not one thing, and with me it almost never is. I had been operating above the level of my capacity for a couple weeks now. School enrollment, and appointments have devoured my days. So much paperwork, and talking to people. Social engagements, and all the while keeping up with regular household stuff, too had me teetering. I knew I was teetering, but there was not much I could do. I used every coping skills available to me, but it was not enough. On top of the demands a few different people in this small time frame had treated Bubby poorly. This happens often with him, but usually not in such a small window of time, and one in which I was recovering from so much. (He is not aware of the rejection, or what was said about him in two of these incidents.) Not only was I beyond sad for my big hearted son who does not deserve this, but I was/am feeling as if I failed him in some way. This was the last straw. This took my last spoon, and it was all downhill from there. I had a meltdown, passed out from exhaustion, and have been recovering for the rest of the night.

I once heard from someone on an ASD message board that said the difference between a meltdown, and a panic attack was that a panic attack = "OMG! I'm going to die!!!!" A meltdown = "Omg. I'm going to make you die!" While not all of us are physical I find it an apt description. I felt anxious when I made a status update on Facebook, and that quickly evolved to irrational anger when it was met with well meaning, but not helpful comments.Now, I am sure there are people that think that if I'm going to leave bitchy comments (or say them) then it's fair game for them to respond in the same manner. I suppose that is true. Other people can hold that opinion, but I don't feel the power is equal in that equation. I see it all the time with adults vs autistic kids. They just can't leave the kid alone to recover. Instead they keep picking, and arguing with the kid, further escalating things. When I am in a meltdown situation it's the worst, rawest, most desperate feeling in the world. I am out of control, and my world is spinning. Sometimes I might cry, but that isn't real often. As a matter of fact, not much emotion ever registers on my face, so there is little for the other people in my presence to clue into other than my behavior.

So, what do (usually) well intentioned people usually say when I am having a meltdown situation?

Friday, August 7, 2015

One Year Post #Hysterectomy Update

On July 29th it was one year to date since I had a hysterectomy. I thought that doing a little update post about how that year has been for me, and how I feel about it now would be good for women that may be considering having one, or possibly just had one.

Of course, this is just my experience. I don't intend to represent a standard of healing. I do, however, want to tell my story, and possibly offer some hope for others. If one was to look on the internet for hysterectomy stories a lot of what you'd come away with would be bleak. I don't know why. Positive stories aren't as easy to find as the negative ones.

I think the hardest part was the healing time. Since I am in such a busy household I couldn't really rest as well as I'd like to have. I talk about that some in a past post: Recovering From a Hysterectomy in an Autistic Household so I'm not going to repeat it all here in this post.

The first few months after the hysterectomy everything seemed to be doing okay. I was easing back into my routine, and all was pretty good. The only thing that was not was that I was still in pain. I spoke to my doctor about it, but no one quite knew why my bladder was hurting so much, but chalked it up to just a slow healer.

Then, in October my energy dropped, and depression started setting in. A different kind of depression than any other I've had. It was a deep to the bone heavy weight, immobilizing kind. I pushed through it. It came, and went.

By January my bladder was hurting worse than ever. I went to see a doctor, and long story short after several appointments with specialists I was diagnosed with interstitial cystitis.  I realized that a lot of the pain I was blaming on the endometriosis was really due to this bladder issue. Most of the time it is not all that bad, but sometimes the pain is comparable to active labor pain. I am in pain every day, but usually it is tolerable. Now, I can get the correct treatment that I realize that not all of the pain I was experiencing was due to the endo.

During the months of November through early January I had began to gain weight. Nothing I did seemed to help, and it was all gathering around my tummy. It was evident as my mood shifted, and my weight changed that even though I had kept my ovaries they were not working properly. I had thought that I had made the worst mistake ever. I felt like I was doomed to this life of weight gain, and depression.

Thankfully, by February